“What?” I asked. I must have heard him wrong.
“I want you to fuck my wife.”
A million things went floating through my head, most notably, the thought of railing his wife Justine. Why the hell would anyone want to give away his wife like that? This is the last thing I needed to hear from Grant. I have my own issues, besides who fucks his best friend’s wife? He’s got to be joking?
“Justine’s seen all you’ve been through and she thought this might be the best way to get you out of this funk. Christ Matt, we’ve been friends for a long time and it kills me to see you like this. The counseling is sure as hell not working, and it’s obvious there has always been… some… tension… between you two for a long time. I see how you two look at each other.”
“Oh, give me a break. She’s your wife and yes, she’s hot. I remember you sharing plenty of looks with Jenn. So what, this is a pity fuck now?” I retorted. “Boo, hoo. Matt lost his wife and is having trouble getting his shit together, let’s throw him a bone, or better yet, have him throw his bone in my wife. I don’t think so, Grant.” I was mad.
I could feel the heat rise in my face as I continued, “I’m not a charity case, I’ve been mourning my fucking wife. Besides, what’s in it for you? If I fucked her, you’d have to think about that for the rest of your life. It would ruin your marriage for Christ's sake! Who’s freaking idea is this? Yours? Hers?” I was more than curious about that last piece.
“Whoa, buddy….” He was obviously taken aback by my tone. This was obviously not going the way Grant had planned it. “We are just trying to help! We’ve seen what you’ve gone through, man. You haven’t been able to pull yourself out of this for over a year now and you’re just going through the motions. You put up a good front to everyone else but I see it. Justine certainly sees it. You’re just not there anymore. You think Jenn would have wanted to see you like this?”
Fuck, they had seen through me. I thought I was better than that. They knew me better than I thought. Grant was right. I’d just been going through the motions. My friends and family have their own lives to live. I didn’t need people feeling bad for me. They shouldn’t have to worry about my life all of the time.
Pity was not my thing. Self-loathing on my own maybe, but I didn’t need people to feel sorry for me, let alone offer me their wives. This had to be coming from somewhere, but I couldn’t do this right now with Grant.
“I gotta go Grant. My therapy session is in a half-hour. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you or Justine, but I don’t need your pity, or a pity fuck.” I reached out to shake his hand and he responded in kind. “Look, I appreciate the sentiment, I do. You guys have always been there for me, but this is a bit extreme don’t you think? Let’s not make dinner tonight more awkward than it’s already going to be. I’ll see you guys around 7:00.”
I pulled him in for an awkward bro-hug and led him out the garage door as I got into the car and pulled away. My god, was the weekly meal with Grant and Justine going to be weird tonight? The Friday night meal was something we’d done for years and we just kept doing after Jenn had died. It was really the only thing that kept me going after those first few months.
It was then on to the next worry, as this is the last thing I needed before my session with Dr. Amanda Atkins. My big mouth got me into this particular mess. My primary care doctor was asking me all kinds of questions, just two weeks after Jenn’s accident. He just kept pushing and I just burst out without thinking that I felt like ending it all, if he didn’t stop asking questions.
Dr. Cole misinterpreted the hint as a cry for help and told me it was weekly sessions with a psychologist or an inpatient psych evaluation. That got me these sessions with Dr. Atkins, and today was the second to last mandated one. It’s not like I tell her anything anyway. I just tell her what she wants to hear “everything is awesome” and she eats it up and tells me I’m progressing. What bullshit…
Dr. Atkins’ office was different than what I expected a psychiatrist’s office to be. No couch, or lounger. Just four comfy brownish modern living room furniture chairs in a semi-circle with an impressive dark wood modern office desk to the side. She always sat down in the chair opposite me and always waited for me to say something first, which of course, drove me insane. There were sessions early on when I would wait it out, but I could only make ten or fifteen minutes in the silence.
There was something about her that made the silence uncomfortable. She was actually quite naturally pretty, but she always wore unflattering business suits or other such bagginess to hide herself, and never any make-up on her fair creamy pale skin. Her strawberry blonde hair was usually up in a simple ponytail. She was a natural beauty, but it was like she was trying to hide herself from everyone. That’s something I could relate to.
Just looking at her through that silence sort of irked me after a while. What was she afraid of? I stopped playing the game after a month and I just broke down and started the bullshit.
Today was different for some reason. She started off things off for the first time since our very first session. “Next week is the last mandatory session, but you are more than welcome to keep coming after that.” She paused for effect after seeing I had been taken by surprise with her leading off. “Why don’t you tell me, where you are going from here? Where is life taking Matt Garner in the next six months?”
